


Portals of Discovery

by GTRWTW



Series: The Publican's Confession Box [3]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith, Strike (TV 2017)
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 22:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29357895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GTRWTW/pseuds/GTRWTW
Summary: A fun night turns tense as Robin asks questions she's not sure she wants the answers to.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Series: The Publican's Confession Box [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149110
Comments: 31
Kudos: 77





	Portals of Discovery

"Go on, tell me!"

Robin's sides hurt from laughing; she thanked the universe for putting her at a loose end tonight, causing her to wander into the office rather than heading home. When Strike had met her on the landing and suggested a drink she had not been altogether surprised, but had happily accepted.

Strike had been unusually loquacious, regaling her with stories of his teenage exploits and some brief snippets from the army. Robin wondered what had brought on this exuberant mood; could it be their third closed case this month, which had terminated spectacularly that morning with a scorned wife's tearful confession of attempted poisoning? Or could it simply be Robin's company, warm and open across the wooden table, eager to listen to him talk?

Strike drummed his fingers on the table and grinned.

"Ok, fine. Her name was Mrs Holgate. She told me I was going places in life, that I had brains and a good attitude," he said, shrugging.

"And…?"

"And nothing. It's not a high school movie. She'd have got thrown out."

"But you said you had a -"

"I did," agreed Strike, smirking. "I used to doodle her name and write poems about her and everything."

Robin burst into more laughter, a tear leaking out of the corner of one eye.

"What's funny? Don't tell me you never had a crush on a teacher, Ellacott."

"No, of course I did," admitted Robin, wiping the moisture from her face. "It's just hard to imagine you writing poetry. You're normally so… surly." She blushed, and Strike looked at her, amused.

"I didn't say it was  _ good _ poetry," he said as Robin continued to giggle.

"What about you, then?"

"Oh no, Strike," demanded Robin. "We're staying on you. You're not getting out of it that easily."

"I just told you about her!"

"Well, tell me some more. Tell me… what she looked like."

Strike paused for a moment, grinning at Robin with blatant mischievousness.

"She was a bit shorter than me, even then. Long dark hair. Big brown eyes."

"All right, are you going to give me her measurements?" Robin teased.

"You asked."

"And is that -" Robin paused, wondering if she was going to say it, but aware that it was already too late. "Is that your type?"

Strike didn't hesitate.

"Not any more." 

He took a drink, never breaking eye contact with Robin, whose face had inexplicably turned a delicate shade of rose. She picked up her glass and emulated him just to have something to do with her hands. 

"What about in the army?" she ventured.

"What about it?"

"Well, senior officers… would they have got thrown out?" Robin could feel the heat in her cheeks.

"Probably, if anyone found out," he answered casually, smirking.

"And after the army?"

Strike looked at her, his gaze intense but not unwelcoming.

"What exactly are you asking me?"

"Did you ever… have you ever had a thing with someone from a case?"

"You're full of questions tonight," he said mildly.

"That's not a no," Robin pointed out. Strike smirked again.

"Well, that would be unethical in the army, and I've never seen any reason to break those ethics in the civilian world."

Robin noted that she still hadn't heard a 'no'. She was watching him closely. His eyelid flickered. He passed a hand over his mouth.

"I call bullshit," said Robin.

"What?"

"You heard me. I know you have ethics and I don't think you would normally break them, but I think you have. Just once. Maybe when you were particularly sad, or drunk," she finished with a playful smile.

"I forget you're a top class investigator now," Strike quipped.

"Are you telling me I'm off base?" Robin challenged.

"Ok, fine, you're dead on," Strike admitted, holding his hands up. Robin giggled nervously.

"Since I've been working with you?"

"Yes."

Robin ran through all the people they'd worked with, the witnesses they'd interviewed, the suspects they'd observed from afar. Izzy Chiswell's face swam in her mind, and Robin recalled the upper class voice saying, "I always rather  _ fancied _ Strike." But Strike hadn't seemed overly interested… but then, he never did, until he was. Robin wondered how he'd begun talking to the likes of Lorelei, or Elin, and what he would say about them if she asked.

And then Robin remembered the one time she  _ had  _ asked his opinion about a woman; a furtive compliment in answer to a sly question: _ "Is she stunning-looking in person?" "Yeah, she is."  _

The truth hit Robin like a smack around the head.

"I fucking knew it! I  _ knew  _ you'd slept with her," she exclaimed in a high-pitched rush.

Strike was laughing; he considered trying to deny it, to prolong the mystery, but Robin had jumped from his admittance to her exclamation so quickly that he was sure she was thinking of the right woman, and he knew that his face would have given him away by now. She was entirely too perceptive. Still, he was surprised at her vehemence; he wondered just how much thought she'd given the matter, and whether he ought to feel as pleased as he did that the answer was clearly not none. 

Robin, meanwhile, was wrestling with the sudden bitterness that had swelled inside her. She knew Strike had slept with many women. If she was honest with herself, she had known about this particular one night stand since she had seen his face in the newspaper the following day. She had no claim over him; he was unattached then and now, and he couldn't be blamed for sleeping with a similarly free woman. Why, then, did Robin feel so wretched?

"How - how did that happen?"

"Usual way," joked Strike, and Robin gave him a mock-stern look. He grinned widely. "I don't know, to be honest. She was all over me. And, well… I wasn't going to say no, was I?"

Robin rolled her eyes. "Men," she muttered under her breath.

"Never mind men. What about you?"

Robin gave a start. What about her? She had been frustratingly unavailable and then subsumed by work for the entire time Strike had known her. Did he imagine she kept their male witnesses' contact details in case they might wish to provide entertainment on her nights off, or perhaps that she kept one of them as a paramour, hidden from his sight? Despite Strike's confession and his obviously teasing demeanour, she took offence at the insinuation.

"I have never slept with anyone involved in any of our cases, Strike," she said forcefully. She added under her breath, "never slept with any supermodels, either."

Strike shook his head. "Didn't think you had. But you had such a thing for bloody Raff."

"I did  _ not _ have a thing for Raff! I worked with him, and then I interviewed him, for the case," protested Robin.

"You went for dinner -"

"At your suggestion!" Robin's voice had attained the higher pitch again. She told herself to calm down. "I asked him questions about his dead father, and nothing happened." She took a breath.

"Oh, come on," said Strike, still teasing, oblivious to Robin's rising annoyance. "I know what a woman looks like when she's attracted to someone."

Robin glared at him for a few seconds before speaking.

"You clearly don't."

Strike swallowed hard, looking at Robin's face and wondering whether the wave of intuition that had just hit him was born from the truth or from the drink he'd consumed. In any event, Robin was looking away, pink-cheeked and indignant, and Strike was sorry he'd taken the conversation from mutual laughter to one-sided resentment.

"Robin, I'm sorry. I was only teasing," he said quietly.

Robin glanced back, embarrassed.

"Yeah, I know."

"You know, I only asked you the same questions you asked me." 

The corners of Robin's mouth turned up, and Strike felt it safe to flash her a smile again. A tiny fuzz of warmth flowed through him as he noticed her eyes soften at his smile.

"Yeah, I know," Robin repeated. "But you've been single, available… I was married."

"Bloody hell, I wasn't suggesting you'd cheated on your husband."

"I know. Sensitive," admitted Robin.

"Well, you're single now, anyway. Time to play the field a bit," Strike joked.

"Maybe I will," Robin answered, her eyes glinting with the same mix of mischief and embarrassment with which she'd asked him about his army encounters.

Strike was relieved to be back on safe ground; safe to joke with her, to tease her, to chat to her as he would a friend. He'd enjoyed their pub trips of late and he wanted them to continue; there was barely anything he wanted more. Just one thing, he clarified to himself. Just one thing he wanted more.

"Is that what you want?" Robin was asking. Strike was puzzled for a moment before he realised she was asking about playing the field. He knew the answer he'd like to give; the question was whether he dared to give it.

"Does it matter?"

"Just curious. Your opinion." 

Strike looked into her eyes; her bloody questions again. Why had he thought they were on safe ground? Lately it seemed like everything she said made him yearn in a way he hadn't for years. She had to know what she was doing; or perhaps she was unaware of the effect she had on his mind, his mood, his very blood.

"Are you asking me if I want to play the field, or if I want you to play the field?" he asked cautiously.

"Either."

Strike took a drink before he answered.

"No. To both."

Robin looked into his eyes and Strike found it impossible to look away. Any chance he might have had of downplaying his answer evaporated with each passing second; the look turned into something more, as looks between them lately had started to do when left unchecked. Robin's face was still pink. Strike didn't think she'd ever looked more tense. 

"Ellacott, have you ever had a crush on someone you worked with?"

Robin giggled, and the tension broke like a bubble around them.


End file.
